


Held

by Milarca



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (just a bit), Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Comfort, Cuddling, Dom!Kylo, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Slave!Kylo, Slavery, Smoking, Sub!Hux, Tattoos, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6405088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milarca/pseuds/Milarca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In the beginning, Kylo knew winning Hux over would be good for him. Obviously. But as their relationship had evolved, his feelings had changed. He could never leave Hux. He would die for him, right now, if it was in his destiny to do so.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Held

“Do you intend to _sit there_ for the rest of the night?” Kylo asks.

“Maybe,” Hux says.

Kylo is lying on the bed, his head on his arms and inky sheets tangled around him. The lights are off, but the cold light of a million stars shines through the viewport. Hux is sitting before the transparisteel, smoking.

“You need to sleep,” Kylo says. He’s letting him have this. He could have easily pulled Hux back with the Force as soon as he’d noticed his absence. Instead, he’d settled his head on his arms and proceeded to watch. He likes watching Hux. He does. 

But does he enjoy watching him smoke more than having him within arm's reach? 

Not particularly. 

Not when they have to get up in… _three hours_.

“So do you.”

“My point exactly.”

Hux snorts.

“You _know_ I can’t sleep when you can’t,” Kylo says.

Hux scratches his eyebrow with a finger, cigarette in the same hand. Both his arms and legs are crossed, and Kylo can feel so much tension radiating from him it’s starting to make him empathize with an ill-tuned xantha.

“Can’t you keep track of me even _while_ you’re unconscious?” Hux asks sharply, tiredly, and from his tone Kylo picks up on a spike of discomfort at the continued distance between them. His lungs constrict at the thought. He glares.

“Yes,” he nearly hisses, his voice low. “But that would use energy I don't want to be using when I’m _trying to sleep._ ”

Kylo feels too annoyed at Hux to regret his words. He could do it, if he were desperate enough for rest. But when he’s not desperate, it’s better to just stay awake and keep track of Hux while conscious. He doesn’t need that much sleep anyway.

Hux exhales sharply, lips twitching up into a humourless smile as he takes another drag from the cigarette. A chill sweeps up him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He wants to sleep, but can’t. There’s too much to do. Too many forces working against him.

_Oh, for god's sake._

Kylo wants to help Hux, whatever that means. His veins are humming with unvented anger. Not at Hux. He’s never truly angry at Hux. He’s desperate for him now, though. Hux is on edge. Of course, he’s like that most of the time, but right now he seems almost afraid. 

Not that Kylo can blame him. The Starkiller is nearly complete. Snoke is putting an increasing amount of pressure on him to complete the weapon, his not-so-subtle threats eating away at Hux as he toils to make the work go faster, _faster._

And the threats to his person - from certain scheming subordinates - have been relatively fierce as of late. Kylo has stopped three assassination attempts this month alone. It’s no wonder Hux is smoking. His nerves are getting the better of him because he’s had too much time to think.

Kylo watches him. Hux’s silhouette is nearly black, but his face is lit up like porcelain, his freckles washed out by the cool light.

“Do you want company…?” Kylo asks, unable to keep his voice level. 

“Not really.”

“Liar.”

Hux makes a disgusted noise.

Kylo pushes himself up from the bed and goes to stand behind him. He can sense his anxiety in a higher concentration from here. It’s still buried deep, but threads of it are humming very close to the surface of his thoughts, dragging at the usually well-ordered flow of his mental processes. 

There’s some desire there too.

Hux wants him. Right now. He wants to be stopped. To be held. He wants an escape from his mind and his own actions that are currently driving him as mad as they are Kylo. But Kylo can’t… bring himself to deal with the situation like that tonight.

He wants Hux to relax, without being forced to get there. He wants to give him something else that he needs.

Kylo imagines what it would be like to push his hand through Hux’s mussed hair, down his neck… but Hux wouldn’t like it. He’s too wound up.

Kylo brushes the back of his hand against Hux’s bare arm. Just a touch. Hux jerks away with a silent snarl, glaring at Kylo’s hand. Kylo can’t silence his tense exhalation. He knows Hux wants this. Glancing to Hux only once before facing the viewport again, Kylo moves around in front of him and folds down, legs crossed under himself and leaning back into the stiff, boxy cushion between Hux’s legs.

Hux is staring at him, frozen. 

He could benefit from this, Kylo thinks. Feeling in control. He needs this right now. Hux needs to have him close, right now, directly under his hands.

It takes a while, but, sure enough, there are tentative fingers on Kylo’s neck. A shiver rolls up his spine. Sitting at Hux’s feet like this is different and satisfying. There’s something about being here that feels completely natural to him.

Hux’s hands tremble slightly - despite the calming effects of the tabac - as he pushes them into Kylo’s hair. Kylo’s eyelids drop as Hux’s fingers massage his scalp. His fingernails dig into his skin and he scratches possessively around Kylo’s ears. He slows, combing his fingers rhythmically through dark locks. He catches small knots and detangles them.

Hux’s fingers trail down his neck, and he lightly traces the First Order tattoo at his nape. Kylo stills. 

He doesn’t mind the tattoo. It _is_ unfortunate that most classes of First Order slaves (and thus, many troopers) have a similar one, but he has no power over that.

His skin prickles as Hux’s fingers follow the pattern of ink etched into his skin. Those same fingers have pointed onto great holo maps and directed where the Empire’s troops will go, and from one flick of which have been a death sentence to an entire _species_ of people. Kylo shivers. 

The tattoo, the First Order’s circular, thorned symbol, marks him as organization property. In the middle of the central circle is a smaller one with a horizontal line through it. This marks him as _Hux’s_ property. He had gotten the tattoo emblazoned on his skin the day after he’d been brought to the _Finalizer_ ’s audience chamber and presented to Hux as a gift, a symbol of goodwill.

He remembers that day as clear as the stars glittering brightly before him.

It had been the end of a frustrating few weeks in which he’d been paraded around like a circus animal, despite - or because of? - his relative worth. Being Force-sensitive as well as rebel royalty had been the bane of his existence since before he could remember. Having been stolen from his parents at a young age meant he knew no other life, but was always forcefully reminded of what could have been.

He had been surprised and anxious to learn that he was being given to the general - _the general -_ of the entire First Order. It was a gamble on the part of King Varigon who was giving him away, as he presented as much a benefit as a danger.

The chamber he’d been shoved into was large and sparse. It had a high ceiling, with walls that ended far past where the assembled officers were gathered on a circular raised dais that dropped off into the main floor. Directly in front of the door and on top of this dais was another raised platform.

There, settled upon a sleek throne and flanked by several troopers, the General of the First Order watched the proceedings with a disinterested but hawk-like countenance. He looked at Kylo like he was something repugnant. Kylo clenched his jaw. 

The king stood to his right, greying and overweight and wearing clothes so fine they stood in contrast to the stark uniforms of the First Order officers surrounding the floor. He was looking at Kylo greedily, and Kylo wished he was wearing something more than wrapped black cotton briefs. 

There was a hush in the room, and Kylo fought to keep his calm. There was a reason he was here, and it was not to be gifted away as a common slave. They all knew what he could do, if given the chance.

Only a moment had passed since the guard had pushed him forward, the chains rattling from the cuffs on Kylo’s wrists into the man’s hand. 

“General Hux,” King Varigon said, his voice carrying in the high chamber. He seemed to be continuing a conversation started earlier. “If you would be so kind as to accept my gift…” The man did a slight half-bow and motioned to Kylo.

Kylo wrinkled his nose.

“A slave. The captured son of Princess _Leia Organa_ of the Rebel Alliance.” Varigon said this with an air of disgust, but also barely noticeable awe. “Gifted with the Force and trained to obedience, I now present him to you as a token of peace, and of friendship.”

From the look on Hux’s face, Kylo doubted very much there was - _or ever would be_ \- any kind of friendship between the First Order and whatever decently sized but still paltry kingdom this king was now only a token ruler of. And he wondered what kind of man Varigon was if he thought that gifting slaves - even Force-sensitive ones - to high ranking officers would ever earn him any points in their good books. 

General Hux seemed as annoyed as him by the whole affair.

However, he did heard several hushed whispers ripple through the audience of officers. _Leia Organa. Force-sensitive._ He straightened.

Hearing his mother's name didn’t bother him. He barely reacted to it anymore, having heard it so many times since his capture as he was bought and sold from one wealthy master to the next. He didn’t remember much of his mother, or his father. He’d barely been four when he had been taken from them - if the fragmented tales of his capture were to be believed.

He knew he had come from rebel royalty. He supposed it was true considering his strength with the Force. He didn’t ask about it anymore though. He had been disciplined in the past for untoward curiosity _._ That had made him hate the rebels. Why had they allowed him to be taken? Why bring a youngling into the world if there was a chance of such cruelty? It made him sick.

Hux was watching him, eyes cautious and annoyed, but curious.

“He is strong with the Force, you say?” he asked, tone bored and restrained as if he’d wanted to say something entirely different.

Kylo looked at Hux, suddenly sharply aware of the danger of the situation. He had no idea what Hux’s intentions were. Of course he would be curious about his Force-sensitivity, but. There was something in his tone that held Kylo still. 

“Quite so, General. Though the chip in his neck keeps him from being able to use his abilities.”

The chip, the damn chip hooked onto his vertebrae. Kylo swallowed.

“Turn it off.”

“...Sir?”

“I _said_ turn it off,” Hux said, his tone indicating that if he needed to repeat himself, this now pseudo-king might very well meet his end in some grim and malicious manner.

Kylo was frozen, feeling something akin to hunger edge up his throat. He stared at Hux, scarcely processing what he was hearing. He hadn’t been allowed to use the Force in _weeks._

“Yes, sir. Of course.” Immediately, Varigon motioned to some unseen person - his eyes, all at once thunderous as he glared at Kylo in warning.

And then Kylo could _feel_ again.

He exhaled heavily, getting a sense of the mass of all the objects and organisms in the room in a deeply satisfying rush. The thickness of the duracrete and steel in the floors and walls, the thumping heartbeats of the few dozen humanoids - and nonhumanoids - in the room. He could feel it all. He was also acutely aware that he could crush them all _instantly -_ if he wasn’t also aware that doing so would probably mean his certain and near instantaneous demise, or in the worst case scenario, prolonged torture.

Just because he was allowed to _sense_ the Force again, didn’t mean he was allowed to _use_ it. He tasted the metal of the chip pinching the skin at the base of his neck, its tiny size in contrast to the power it held over him. Whoever had the frequency to that chip had, among other things, the ability to make his brain think his body was on fire.

And so, he acted on none of the immediate and instinctive impulses running through his mind. 

One such impulse was to kill every single person in the room. It would be easy. He knew the anatomy of the brain and could feel his way around otherwise. It was a simple matter to pinch some nerve in the central tissue of the cerebral cortex, sending the whole system offline and causing instant death.

He had only done this once to someone since he’d discovered it. A pretty serving boy. He’d been subtly experimenting with his technique at a banquet where he had been given control of the Force to impress the gathered nobles by tumbling baubles and other such wastes of his abilities. He’d focused on the boy and had accidentally - or not so accidentally - succeeded. 

The boy had collapsed, an exquisite jar of Halmad Prime falling from his hands and crashing to the floor. Brilliant blue liquid spilled across the rich marble. This quickly and gruesomely mixed with the boy’s blood, which had started to seep out from the crack in his skull.

Nobody had suspected him. Nobody had any idea that he had that kind of power. Or at any rate, he was never pulled aside and questioned about it. He knew that if any of his captors became aware of his true abilities, and their relative inability to control his usage of them, they would use the chip to shock him until he was incapacitated and then fire a plasma bolt through his head before he knew what happened.

Unless he was careful and used it strategically.

The small audience stared at him. They were expecting him to do something. 

Idiots.

Hux wasn’t an idiot. He knew Kylo was being held hostage. Their eyes met.

Hux rose and approached them.

Varigon seemed suddenly anxious, and Kylo reveled in the man’s discomfort.

Several paces away, Hux looked at him, hands held behind his back.

Strangely, Kylo felt suddenly very interested in the man. He had no desire to enter anyone else’s mind in this room, but there was something about Hux that grabbed at his curiosity. Cautiously, Kylo reached out and gently brushed Hux’s mind, so gently that a non-Force-sensitive individual wouldn’t be able to detect it.

Hux’s thought process was ticking away quickly, though firmly; his mind processing the thick political atmosphere of the room as well as calculating Kylo, the slave son of Leia Organa. He was thinking only marginally of Varigon.

Kylo knew he could be disciplined severely for reading Hux’s mind, if Hux sensed it and disapproved, that is, but it had been so long since he’d been free of the chip’s headache-inducing power, he could barely contain himself. And delving into Hux’s grinding psyche was a curious way to pass the time.

Hux drew nearer to him, so he was in Kylo’s space. And then he started to walk around him, and Kylo felt something crackle, felt satisfaction settle deep into his bones.

“Can you tell what I’m thinking?” Hux asked him.

Kylo’s eyes widened fractionally though he controlled himself before it was obvious. Hux was educated in the ways of the Force, the deep secrets, too, even. Impressive. Kylo considered lying for only a fraction of a second. Hux knew the answer to the question already.

“Yes.” He spoke so low even Varigon strained to hear him. He glanced just behind him, though he couldn’t see Hux’s face.

Hux was interested in him, too. Far more than he would have expected. He was not afraid of Kylo. Kylo was not afraid of him. This was a pleasant surprise to Hux, for the moment.

“Show me something.” He was behind Kylo. The skin at the nape of Kylo’s neck prickled.

“Show you what?” Kylo had an inkling of what Hux was asking him but he needed an order. He couldn’t just...

“Show me what you can do,” Hux enunciated clearly but softly in his ear. A challenge. Kylo contained a shiver. He felt the Force quiver in the objects around him. The floor. The seats along the sides. The belt buckles in the officer’s uniforms. Their very bodies.

The dais at the end of the walkway, set upon the floor. That was immovable. There was very little in the way of furniture he could actually move without upsetting someone.

And using the Force was difficult when he couldn’t control his hands… his hands. And these damn cuffs. Rage splintered white hot inside him and travelled to the lock in the cuffs – it clicked free. The durasteel binders and their chain clanked to the floor.

The officers jerked. The guard inhaled and drew his weapon but Hux whipped up his hand. The guard’s horrified stare flicked from Kylo to Hux and back.

Kylo flexed his fingers and rubbed his wrists. Fuck, those made his hands ache. 

Hux’s lips quirked slightly, as he circled back around. Kylo dragged the cuffs away from his feet mentally, irritated by their presence. The guard hissed and hushed whispers erupted. _Please_.

He looked Hux in the eye.

“Does that satisfy you? _Sir_ ,” Kylo said, putting just a small inflection on the last word. He hoped he wasn’t pushing it.

 _Kill the guard_.

Kylo resisted the urge to make a small amused exhalation, hearing the thought as plain as day in Hux’s head, directed squarely at him. Hux knew he had heard. He had intended it.

 _You won’t come to any harm_.

 _Can you be sure?_ Kylo pushed into Hux’s head, still wary of every other factor coming into play here.

Hux seemed shocked and delighted that Kylo had the ability to do that. His lips twitched.

“Give me your blaster,” he said to the guard.

The guard didn’t respond for a fraction of a second, before he passed it over, and Kylo could feel the sudden waves of anxiety radiating off him. And for good reason. Hux took the weapon and held it behind his back. Eyes like flint, he glanced up to some spot behind Kylo - the control room, where someone held the remote to his chip? - and then back to him.

 _That was a warning. No harm will come to you_.

Kylo still couldn’t be sure, but he _did_ want to kill this guard. He didn’t want to give his secret away while he did, however, and he had the feeling his ability to kill anyone _instantly_ without preamble would unsettle even Hux. He could freeze the man, and watch as he slowly died of hypoxia, but that might scare them too.

So choking it was.

It felt good to exert pressure on the man’s neck. His face reddened and his eyes widened, and there was no reaction from the assembled officers for a moment. And then there were gasps, though they were too well trained to react further.

His eyes stayed locked on Hux, and Hux made no move to intervene, his eyes widening only fractionally. The guard writhed and sputtered, his brain slowly shutting down as it was deprived of oxygen. Kylo pressed down on both the man’s carotid arteries, quickening the process.

He finally lost consciousness, and Kylo waited a good few more seconds before finally dropping him, his limp body landing with a thud and sickening _crack_ to the polished black granite floor. Blood started to pool out from his head.

It was nearly silent. Kylo could feel a handful of people conflicted about the casual murder, but none so stupid as to voice any objection to it.

And finally, there was something sharply pleased in Hux’s thoughts, his eyes not wavering from Kylo’s.

_...Is that all?_

Kylo watched Hux carefully. He didn’t particularly trust the man. Though he had already started to appreciate his ruthlessness.

He leveled his gaze at Hux. He would like to cause the man agony, in some form, but he felt like that about most people. Right now, that, of course, was not an option. Not without being dragged to his knees by the unseen controller of the chip in his neck and quickly put down like a rabid dog.

Hux watched him.

And then, in the space of a blink, he took the blaster, aimed at Varigon’s head, and fired.

Kylo seized the blast in midair. 

Varigon and a few of the officers in the blaster’s line of destruction jumped out of the way, though seconds after it would have hit them.

Kylo shuddered, heart ramming against his chest.

He realized only then, outstretched arm shaking with the exertion of keeping the bolt in place, why Hux had done it. And that his reaction had been what Hux wanted, instead of it being interpreted as him interfering with some kind of execution, thankfully. This king, though inconsequential in Hux’s mind, was still far more valuable to him than a common guard.

Varigon, horror-struck though unwilling to show it through anything but his eyes, stared at the mass of energy, still on a collision course with the place where his skull had been only moments before.

The officers now stood, frozen, unsure what the best course of action was when their lives had just been threatened by their leader. Not that it was anything new, really. Hux threatened all of them in various ways practically on an ongoing basis. 

The capsule of energy warbled and sung as it shivered in mid-air. Varigon straightened, only just managing to hide the fury, and fear, in his eyes.

Kylo concentrated on the blast, holding it, managing to still his shaking arms. If he let it go it would crash into the raised seating on the side, now empty. It would send a flurry of sparks in every direction, which would most likely be harmless. He released it, and several people cried out as it exploded in a burst of light and noise onto the durasteel.

Hux was staring at him. He had lowered the blaster in his hand back down to his side. Kylo had started to sweat and was taking deep, even breaths. He had been able to stop the blast but he didn’t know if he had the skill or strength to keep it there for any length of time. 

He pushed his shoulders back, swallowing, shocked at himself when he realized he wanted Hux’s approval. It left a strange taste in his mouth.

“Very good,” Hux said. It sounded too loud in Kylo’s ears, which were ringing. _We may be of use to each other,_ Hux thought privately to Kylo, handing the blaster to a guard who hurried to take it. Hux held his hands behind his back again. 

“Varigon, your gift has been accepted.” His next words he directed at the guard. “Take him away.”

He gave Kylo a last, lingering look.

The chip in Kylo’s neck instantly snapped to action again and he winced, his grip on the world severing with a sickening snap, leaving him feeling empty and lost.

Hux inhales, jolting Kylo out of the memory. 

His eyes are locked on the stars outside the viewport. Hux’s cigarette butt is in the dish by the chair. His hands are in Kylo’s hair, his fingers on his scalp, now frozen in place.

Hux had seen it. Kylo had been projecting, and with Hux’s hands on his skin the transference would have been much easier. He hadn’t meant…

“Did you intend to do that?” Hux asks, quietly.

_No._

Hux is silent. 

He brushes the tips of his fingers through Kylo’s hair. Kylo can sense his trepidation.

“Do you mind?” Hux asks. 

Kylo takes a deep breath and exhales. 

_No, of course not. I don’t mind you seeing any of it, or all of it. You were there for most of it anyway._

Hux swallows, and continues to weave his fingers through Kylo’s hair. 

He’s still tense, but now he’s tense about _this_. Fuck. That isn’t what Kylo wanted. But he keeps still as Hux’s hands move slowly, slowly, to his jaw. Hux trails his fingers along Kylo’s neck, and back to the tattoo. His thumb swirls around the pattern and rests on the center, just over the chip. His lingering touch seems regretful.

In the beginning, Hux had kept the chip on and had the remote in his pocket at all times. Then, he had kept it off for longer periods of time, before finally discontinuing its use altogether. Eventually, he had allowed Kylo to quietly seek out those persons who knew about it, and erase the memory from their minds. Currently, it was not on file anywhere and no one Kylo could get to within a reasonable amount of time knew about its existence, except for Hux. 

Though he hadn’t yet granted its removal.

Kylo never pressed the subject, though it was a slight irritant. A reminder. That Hux was not yet willing to give him total freedom.

He would never hurt Hux. Hux knew that. But he was worried that Kylo would leave; an irrational fear. 

“We’ll get this out.”

“What?” Kylo blinks and turns his head in Hux’s direction.

Hux’s gaze has intent, and resolve.

“The chip. It has no use any more. I don’t believe it ever had. I mean, obviously. You’ve been…”

“… _Not_ a murderous psychopath intent on killing everyone?” Kylo breathes a laugh. Hux gives him a look.

“Yes. That.”

Kylo feels something creak inside him. He’s wanted this, of course. It doesn’t really matter at this point. He could probably have gotten it out himself if he had really wanted. His understanding of the Force has grown exponentially in the time since his transfer in ownership. He’d gradually been allowed to exert more control over his powers and experiment more, as he’d shown his worth, and his trustworthiness.

As he’d formed a bond with Hux. 

He feels a stab of guilt in his chest. But he hadn’t done it for that. Of course he hadn’t. Well. In the beginning he certainly knew winning Hux over would be good for him. Obviously. But as their relationship had evolved… Kylo’s feelings had changed. He could never leave Hux. He would die for him, right now, if it was in his destiny to do so.

_Your freedom, too._

Kylo stills. He’d heard it loud and clear in Hux’s mind. Hux is looking at him intently, searching his face but not looking _at_ him. He’s realizing something he’s known for a while.

_I should have done it long ago._

Hux is relieved. It’s lifting something off his shoulders, which is all Kylo cares about. Freedom is a length of rope, and all that.

Kylo turns around fully, and Hux watches him. They stay like that for a long minute before Hux huffs and very nearly rolls his eyes, and closes the gap between them. Kylo’s lips twitch. He can smell the tabac on Hux’s breath. It’s disgusting, and he wants to beat Hux senseless until he quits. But it’s also comforting. Kylo edges closer until their noses touch, briefly, and then he brushes Hux’s lips with his own, and nips at his bottom lip. Hux swallows, eyes darkening.

Kylo presses their lips together, kissing Hux desperately. Hux moans and kisses him back with equal intensity, taking his head and pulling him close. They’re both breathing hard as they break apart.

“ _Fuck, Ren_ ,” Hux says, hands tightening in Kylo’s hair, pulling it almost painfully tight. Kylo grinds his teeth, grinning.

 _Thank you, General,_ he thinks.

Hux kisses him again, harder this time, pushing him back. Kylo lets Hux shove him down, toppling them onto the floor. Hux didn’t expect Kylo to relent and he falls with a graceless _oomph_ onto Kylo’s chest.

“ _Hell_ ,” Hux says into Kylo’s shirt, his collarbone. Kylo laughs and wraps his arms around Hux, kissing his temple hard and humming. Hux struggles in his arms.

“Ren, get _off_ me.” He pushes against Kylo hard but Kylo holds him fast. 

“You wanna get out of my arms?” he whispers into Hux’s ear. Hux shivers and huffs.

“Too damn strong,” he says, wiggling and stretching and finally jerking free. Though Kylo has only let him go because this is a ridiculous position they’re in. He grins as Hux gets to his feet, holding his arms and looking down at him.

“You’re too pretty,” Kylo says, standing. He takes Hux’s shoulders, and kisses his neck. Then steers him to the bed.

“Ren— _Ren, what the hell are you_ —” Hux starts.

“Shhh,” Kylo whispers into his ear, urging him onto the bed. “Come on.”

“What are you, my mother?” Hux asks.

Kylo pauses, for a second getting a vague empty feeling from Hux about his mother. She had been a cold woman. Kylo knows this. He had seen Hux think about her before.

They’re sitting on the side of the bed, Kylo with one leg folded under him. He takes Hux’s neck and rubs it, then pulls him in for a gentle kiss. Hux’s eyebrows knit and he leans into him. Kylo draws back then, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips just slightly. He swings up onto the bed and lies down in a show, then holds his hand out to Hux. _Here_.

Hux sighs and reaches over, taking it. Kylo rubs Hux’s palm. Not pulling him. Just feeling his warmth, trying to relax him. When he looks up, Hux’s eyes are shadowed. Hux glances at him and makes a face, exhaling sharply and looking to the clock. He groans. 

“Come here,” Kylo says, gently. 

Hux sighs deeply. 

“Yes, fine, all right,” he says after a moment, and gets under the covers. They pull the black comforter over themselves and he shifts closer. Kylo meets him in the middle and pulls him into his arms. Hux is stiff against him at first but then some of the nervous tension seems to drain out and he snuggles into Kylo’s chest. He tangles their legs together. 

Kylo holds Hux close, feeling his heat, his breath on his skin. His lips. Hux kisses the dip in Kylo’s throat and Kylo swallows, heartbeat picking up. He’s sure Hux can hear it. They’re small kisses, but warm and firm. Kylo hums, some deep craving inside him feeling particularly satisfied as Hux nestles against him, as Hux kisses him and groans. Kylo kisses Hux’s head, breathing him in.

He smells like cigarettes. Kylo sighs. They’d need to have a good long shower in the morning. 

But this has been good. Hux needed this. He needed to… give Kylo this. To make peace with himself. And hopefully it’ll help him realize that Kylo isn’t going anywhere, even if he has the option. He’s going to be there for him, in every way he knows how. Even if what Kylo can offer in the way of protection only extends so far. The range of his capability is great but not unlimited. 

It does not extend to Snoke. 

The strange god-like being Hux receives his orders from sets Kylo on edge. He has not yet had an audience with the creature, only glimpsed him through Hux’s mind, but the stress he’s put Hux under is worrying.

Kylo has wondered in the past if making some kind of insane escape plan would be worth seriously considering. But Hux would never go for it. Starkiller is his world, as surely as it could be the end of billions of others’.

Reaching out into Hux’s mind, Kylo encounters fuzziness. He’s asleep. His heartbeat and breathing have slowed, which is not surprising; he’d been exhausted.

Kylo kisses Hux’s hair again and tightens his grip. He does a sweep of the room and the surrounding area, as far as he’s able with his limited telepathic abilities, and slowly relaxes.

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected Hux’s pronouncement. It’s settled something deep inside him, he can’t deny that. But he’s more pleased about the effect it has already seemed to have had on Hux. He’s already dropped into sleep, after months of nights filled with restless tossing and turning.

Hux slowly enters deeper sleep. He shifts against Kylo, drawing closer, his hands settling against Kylo’s chest. He nuzzles into his throat and makes a soft noise. Kylo cradles Hux’s head with one gentle hand, automatically creating a Force barrier around them. Even if there aren’t any other Force-users on the ship, it puts him at ease.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [marlon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Marlon/pseuds/Marlon) and [irisbleufic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic) for being amazing betas <3
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [milarca](http://milarca.tumblr.com/)~


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